


The Air of Change

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: I Take Pride in What I Am 2020 [13]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Post-Alvarez Teikoku | Alvarez Empire Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24892891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: “You’re still Chelia.” Her hand moves now, rising to brush away the tears that refuse to stop falling, and she can’t help but lean into the gentle touch. “You’ll always be Chelia too me, and nothing will change that.” It’s a promise. An anchor now and going forward, and it settles in her bones, a balm against the ache of her loss. It doesn’t banish it, she’s not sure anything can, at least not right now, but it soothes, and with Wendy’s hand lingering against her cheek and the Dragon-slayer holding her gaze, she breathes.In the wake of Alvarez, everything has changed...or maybe not everything.
Relationships: Chelia Blendy & Wendy Marvell, Chelia Blendy/Wendy Marvell
Series: I Take Pride in What I Am 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771147
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26
Collections: I Take Pride in What I Am 2020





	The Air of Change

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that if you want to talk to me about my fics and writing, or anime/shows/games in general then you can now find me on discord [The Unholy Trinity](https://discord.gg/6sSddAWa5c).

It had been easy to – not forget, never forget – but to push the loss of her magic, the price of her sacrifice to the back of her mind when Hargeon erupted in cheers. They had won. They had survived. And then Wendy was there, and in her arms again, and a tension that she hadn’t even been aware of had eased in her chest as she hugged the Dragon-slayer close. Alive. Safe. At that moment, there was no magic and no need for it, and she could almost believe that she had everything, the whole world wrapped in her arms, tears on both their faces even as they laughed and smiled and held on tight.

“You came back,” she manages to say at some point, finding her voice, and Wendy is smiling and nodding. There is a look in her eyes that said more happened in that time rift that she knows, but the smile is dazzling, distracting as is her soft response.

“I knew that you and Carla were waiting for me.” The sheer faith in those words takes her breath away. It’s true. It’s been true since Wendy first left Lamia Scale, and it’s a shock to realise that some small part of her had thought that was going to change now that she was…different? Less? She’s not entirely sure what the word for it is, isn’t sure that she wants to know what the word is.

“I…we were,” she whispers, and Wendy’s smile grows. She would give anything to remain like this, content and together, the rest of the world and the future on the outside. For this minute, where the ache of her loss is distant, and she doesn’t feel out of her place in her skin, amongst all these people who still have their magic, to last forever.

It can’t, of course.

All too soon, Wendy is called away, after all, she’s a healer, and there are many injured people. The joyous mood lingers but settles to a gentle hum of conversation around her, people from different guilds mingling as they seek out healing and food, or just to share stories.

Lyon is in a group with Gray and Erza, and a couple of others that she recognises in passing but doesn’t no well, and he spots her and beckons for her to join them. It’s tempting. She trusts him not to pity her, not to judge, but she can’t bring herself to go to him. To join in with sharing stories. _I sacrificed my magic, everything that I am,_ doesn’t have much of a ring to it, and she can imagine it will kill the mood in less time than it took her to lose her magic, and so she shakes her head and plunges into the crowd. Everywhere she goes, there is magic or talk of it, and the ache in her heart is growing stronger, increasing with each breath, as the ease that Wendy had brought with her fades.

At one point she glimpses the bright flare of her cousin’s hair, sees Sherry moving towards her with a smile on her lips, and it’s like the tiniest of rocks that starts off an avalanche. She couldn’t face her, couldn’t face anyone. Couldn’t keep smiling and pretending and ignoring the ache that was far more than an ache now. She doesn’t remember bolting, weaving her way through people. Happy, whole people. Exhausted people, their magic down to dredges, but still there, just needing a little rest and food to return to them. Not gone, not like hers. She hears people calling out to her, hears the worry and alarm, but she can’t speak, can’t even bring herself to look at them as darts past them. There’s a lump in her throat now, a sob that won’t shake itself free even as tears cascade down her cheeks, and she can’t breathe, can’t think, consumed by the need to get away from everyone.

She can’t get far like that, but she manages to stagger out beyond the edge of Hargeon before her legs waver and collapse beneath her, sending her to her knees, air whistling in her throat. It taunts her, a mockery of how she used to eat air, and she squeezes her eyes shut and weeps.

It’s gone, and it’s taken everything with it.

She’s not sure how long she kneels there and cries her heart out for. At some point, her breathing had settled into something approaching normal, beyond the hitching and sniffles, everything aching and throbbing as sob after sob rises in her throat. It still feels as though she can’t catch her breath though, although maybe that’s because something in her revolts at the idea of breathing deeply, of tasting the air around her still tainted with ash and smoke, and not feeling the surge beneath her skin. She doesn’t regret her choice, she can’t, remembering the feel of Wendy in her arms alive and strong, smile blinding, but it hurts. She hurts, and she’s not sure that it will ever stop hurting, her hands curling in the grass as she remembers how Carla had held out her hand, letting her help, even though they both knew that it was gone, that she didn’t have any magic left to offer.

“I don’t regret it, I don’t…” She whispers, and she doesn’t, and yet it tastes like a lie on her tongue. Soured by loss and grief, by the taste of the air that no longer fills her with power. Gone, just like everything else. “I…”

“Chelia?” Wendy’s voice is impossibly soft, but she catches it all the same and flinches as though it was a shout, even as she realises that part of her had been waiting. Hoping that the other girl would come and find her. She can’t turn around, not sure whether its to try and protect Wendy from her tears and hurt, or because she doesn’t want to see the Dragon-slayer looking at her as though everything has changed. There’s a pause, and even that’s different before everything between them had been as easy as breathing, but now there’s a hesitancy, a fragility to the quiet, and she can’t breathe again.

Is this broken too?

Wendy moves first, coming to her, hesitant but determined. She can’t look at her, hands fisted in the grass, not breathing. Waiting. A hand on her shoulder, not gentle as though she might break, but firm. Grounding her, and when she feels Wendy crouch beside her, she can’t help but look at her. As drawn to her now, as she had been back during the Grand Magic Games – something that hasn’t changed and broken, and Wendy meets her gaze. Meets it and holds it. Sees her as she is, as she was, and looks at her as though nothing has changed. There is no pity in the brown eyes, just worry and guilt and love. “Am I broken…?” It wasn’t what she’d planned to say, or what she’d wanted to ask, her voice a rasp, breathing still ragged as though there is not enough air in the world, but she can’t take it back.

“No,” Wendy had paled at the question, but there was no hesitation in her answer, no lie. “You’re still Chelia.” Her hand moves now, rising to brush away the tears that refuse to stop falling, and she can’t help but lean into the gentle touch. “You’ll always be Chelia too me, and nothing will change that.” It’s a promise. An anchor now and going forward, and it settles in her bones, a balm against the ache of her loss. It doesn’t banish it, she’s not sure anything can, at least not right now, but it soothes, and with Wendy’s hand lingering against her cheek and the Dragon-slayer holding her gaze, she breathes.

_I’m still me._


End file.
